The Simon Briggs Affair
by indahome
Summary: Why did Napoleon always get the easy side of the job?


Leather shoes clipped across the cappuccino marble flooring as the gentleman made his way down the deserted entryway. The entryway, if one could call it that, lead to polished oak doors far on the left of the room. Gently his hand grasped the solid gold handle and he pulled on it, the door opening. He slipped into the room full of laughter, music and the soft added sound of glasses ringing, skirts swishing and voices talk.

The center floor was dedicated to those who were engaged in the beautiful feat of waltzing, it hardly made a dent in the room, however, for the room seemed to stretch on for ages. Tall French windows lined the west side of the room while marble walls and pillars mixed with a glossy cherry wood adorned the other three walls. This grand ballroom's ceiling stood at two stories, and for the most part you could look up and admire the gold trimming and swarovski crystal chandeliers that seemed to hang low over the dancers creating a romantic feel for those who waltz. There was however a balcony that stood at the north side of the room and you passed under it before the ballroom opened in to the glorious sight. A staircase, hardly seeming to take up space in the room, swept down to the floor and curled softly around to face the entering door.

Fixing his custom Italian tuxedo, Napoleon Solo let his eyes drift around the room searching for his chosen target. He smiled at the ladies, he drifted through the crowed until his eyes happened to drift up. They landed on the gentleman he searched for.

Perched at the railing on the balcony, Simon Briggs looked down at the dancers, drink in hand, and a soft smile on his face.

" _Perfect place for a THRUSH…"_ Napoleon thought, with a wiry smile. Cutting his eyes downward, he sought for a way up, finding the only entrance―in that room―to be the stairs, and it was guarded by two thugs who poorly blended in. Although, Napoleon doubted they were supposed to.

Dropping back, so he stood out of the crowd, Napoleon lifted his hand so his fingers rested on his forehead naturally, and he seemed to be in thought. However he was speaking into his cufflink, as a new improvement of _UNCLE's_ technology and opened his required channel to make communication with his partner, Illya Kuryakin.

"Illya?" he started softly as the channel opened.

" _Yes Napoleon."_ The response was sarcastic as ever and it got a soft smile from Solo.

"How goes the trenches?"

" _Tiresome, and you?"_

"Target spotted... But there is a slight hiccup on getting to him. I'll call you back when I know more. Solo out."

Twisting his cufflink closed, he ended the conversation, and fixed his sleeve in a way that somehow came off as attractive. He once more drifted into the crowd.

Lying flat on his stomach, Illya Kuryakin drug himself through the tunnel hardly large enough for him to maneuver. Never would he have said he was claustrophobic. His time in Russia working for the KGB took care of any fear or most. However, the never-ending tunnel of complete darkness, where oxygen was thin, and maneuverability was close to nil, he was starting to rethink his fear of tight spaces.

His conversation with Napoleon had been less that helpful and when it had ended, it reintroduced the piercing silence he had somehow grown used too.

Grumbling to himself about Napoleon always getting the cushy side of the affair, he attempted to drag himself faster.

Mr. Waverly had put it so nicely when they had sat around his table at _UNCLE_ HQ. Mr. Solo simply could not fit down the crawl space created for the house, and Illya was much more prepared for the job anyway. Napoleon grew smug and Illya had grown quiet with a slightly sour face.

His face lifted so brightly when he at last reached the end of his tiring trek. Before him was a rather solid metal grate, but a few well-placed charges took care of that. Moments later he was dropping to the floor and dusting the dirt from his black attire.

Lifting his torch, he shined it about the lab getting an idea of the area before he went bumbling about. The layout secured in his mind, he started over to a certain table and started to flip through a file left open on the counter.

"Looking for something?" A voice asked from behind as the light was flipped on. "Need a little help?" his voice was sarcastic.

Illya winced, and his light was flicked off. Turning he smiled softly hands up to the gun pointed at his head

"Not really, no. I was doing fine alone…" Illya responded.

His eyes traveled over the guard before him. He was larger than the Russian, but Illya had no doubt in his mind that he could take the young man before him.

The guard motion Illy over with his fingers. Shrugging the Kuryakin dropped his hands and started over. The guard never caught the slight movement that Illya made to the side, but the guard, which Kuryakin never noticed, saw the movement and to save any further irritation with the slippery Russian, he smacked him over the head.

"Why-?" the first guard started, but was cut short.

"Sound the alarm, if Kuryakin is here, Solo can't be fair behind."

Turning, the gun was pointed to the floor and the young man smacked the red switch on the wall.

Napoleon listened to the sounds of the alarm echoed about his, and stopped shaking his head. Coolly setting his glass on the tray of a passing waiter, Solo fixed his cuffs, took one quick glance about and suddenly vanished into the back ground.

Creeping through the underbrush outside he sighed. If _THRUSH_ was sounding the alarm then Illya had been caught or at the very least ran into some sort of difficulty.

"Leave it to that slippery Russian to make things challenging," Napoleon grumbled as he slipped through the underbrush.

Truth be told he was worried about his partner. Instead of heading to safety like the original plan had been, Napoleon was looking for an easy way to enter the basement of the house. Trouble was with the alarm blaring in everyone's ear, it had called the guards and there was THRUSH everywhere.

The guests were leaving. Solo could see the guests were being escorted from the mansion to their cars. If he was going to move now was the time. Looking all around he pulled his coat off and broke a window. Then looking around again he slipped his coat back on and went quickly through the small basement window. It didn't matter if he was discreet now, his cover had already been blown.

Ducking his head to avoid any video cameras,

Napoleon made his way quickly down the hall.

It was a narrow hall, very well-lit and didn't offer the slightest bit of cover. Twin doors, on either side ran the length of the hall and then at the end, the hall turned a corner. The doors were flush with the wall insuring that there would be no place to duck and hide. So, when Napoleon heard voices approaching from the adjoining hall he panicked slightly.

His hands instantly grasped the handle of the nearest door and he tried to enter. It was locked, so he quickly moved to the next door and the next desperately looking for one to open. He had originally thought there hadn't been time to pick the lock. Now he was silently bashing himself for not doing that in the first place. The footsteps neared the end of the hall and Napoleon's hand landed on the last door knob as his other reach for his gun.

Stumbling into the room he quickly shut it, still in complete shock that the door had been unlock. He stood at the door listening to the two men pass and then slowly breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone.

"Oh bravo," a sarcastic voice drawled in the dimly lit room.

Solo turned with a frown to face his partner. Illya was hanging on the wall from his hands that had been tied to a hook.

Napoleon smirked. "At least I haven't been hanging around." He commented as he made his way through the lab to Kuryakin.

"Very funny Napoleon." Illya sighed. Inwardly he was incredibly happy to see him. Outwardly he seemed annoyed that Napoleon had taken so long, and he stated as much.

Solo smiled cutting him loose and caught Illya when he fell. He set him on his feet.

"Are you all right?"

"Besides the bump on my head and a few bruises I'm fine," Kuryakin responded as he shook the ropes free.

"All right then," Napoleon sighed. "Let's get out of here."

Together they slunk back across the room to the door. It was the only way for both of them to get out of the lab together. Illya could have always slipped back through the pipe that he had entered, but Napoleon wouldn't fit, so to the door they headed.

Illya picked up his gun that had been left on the lab table, rather conveniently, and they both leaned against the door listening for a moment.

"Ready?" Napoleon asked softly when it sounded quiet.

Illya nodded taking a deep breath, and suddenly they were out the door shooting like two cowboys busting out of jail. They crawled back out the window Napoleon had broke and ran across the grass for the wall. Napoleon tossed Illya up onto the wall and Kuryakin bent and pulled Napoleon up. Landing on the other side, there was a pause in their escape as for one wild second they looked at each other and grinned.

Then, at the same moment they both rose and once more dashed off into the woods 15 minutes before _THRUSH_ could find where they had gone over the wall. Fifteen minutes was all the two agents needed to make a clean get away.


End file.
